A Ballad of Ice and Fire
by Haylzeyy
Summary: A story about the events in westeros after Bran takes the throne.
1. Chapter One

Chapter 1

Drogon

Rage. That was the only emotion Drogon felt once he realised his mother was dead in front of him. Daenerys Targarayen, mother of dragons, could of passed as being asleep if it where not for the 2 trails of blood that flowed from her nose and mouth. Another tell tale sign was the dagger sticking out from her chest, right where her heart was located. She looked peaceful with the grey ashes of king landing swirling all around her. A fitting picture for the Silver Queen.

Drogon leaped over to her body, the throne room shaking with every leap, put his snout to her shoulder and nudged her gently. No response. He nudges her again hoping for some sign of life but again there is none.

Drogon throws his head back and opens his maw. He lets out a terrifying roar. Standing on his back legs he keeps roaring, all his rage and anger coming out at once. A lament to his fallen mother. At the corner of his eye he catches a slight movement on the floor. He recognises Jon Snow and turns his head towards him, roaring as he does so.

Jon looks up at Drogon knowing that he was about to die. Drogon will burn him where he stands. He supposed this was a fitting punishment for the crime he had just committed. He killed the dragon queen and now the dragon queens child would kill him. It was poetic justice in a way to burn like the Dragon queens enemies.

Drogon feels more and more rage build up inside of him. He opens his maw again a deep heat burning within him. He towers above jon looking down at him. Jon can see the flames coming up from drogons throat, a mixture of orange, blue, red and many others. His eyes widen with fear knowing that this will be the last thing he ever sees.

To jons suprise the flames never engulf him and he watches with suprise as Drogon turns his head to the right, to where the iron throne sits. With a roar the flames leap from Drogons maw engulfs the iron throne. Jon throws himself to the side as the throne room shakes around him. All he can hear is the roar of the flames. Jon sheilds his face with his hands, both to protect himself from the heat and the brightness of Drogons flames. As quickly as Drogon begun he snapped his jaws shut and let out a roar of victory.

Where the magnificent throne once stood now only sat a pile of melting iron. The liquid oozed off the sides of the thrones platform melting any rubble that lay in its path. The smell of burnt metal filled the room and Jon coughed as he swalled a fistful of ash in his shock. He blinked staring at disbelief as Drogon let out another roar.

Drogon turned his attention to Daenarys body and lifted her carefully with his claws. His wings stretched out behind him and he turned and leapt up into the sky. All he cared about was taken his mother far away from kings landing as possible.

Suddenly an idea struck Drogon. Yes that is where he must go. He must go East to Meeren to find a red preist. If they would not help then he will burn their citys to the ground and move on to Astoper. He must keep going as far as he could he would even travel further than anyone had done before for his mother.

The wind whipped strongly around Drogon as his wings stroked through the sky. He let out another roar and pushed himself to go faster. Yes he would save his mother. He would save her and all would be right in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Jon

The sky was blue and the air was crisp. With every breath Jon took he let go a vapour of moisture that rose up into the air and disappeared. He shivered slightly. That was one thing he wondered if he would ever get used to, the cold. He supposed it was the price one paid for living as a free man. He coaxed his horse along the snowy forest, staring out ahead of him, alert and both relaxed. His eyes moved from left to right as he kept an eye on his surroundings. He saw ghost pad softly on the snow just up ahead of him and smiled. Ghost seemed so much more happier since they had travelled from the wall to the North. It had been some months since the events in Kings Landing and Jon was starting to get used to his new life beyond the wall.

Today he and Ghost where not alone. Three other wildings travelled with them.

"I miss the big woman", exclaimed Tormund, breaking the silence.

"You should of gone South with her then". Chuckled Jon. Tormund grunted in response and sighed longingly his gaze unfocused. Jon could only guess where his thoughts would be.

"Who's the big woman?". A soft voice asked. The voice belonged to a somewhat pretty, brunette girl named Perry. She looked to be around the age of 17 and had kind but fierce brown eyes. She sat on her horse with grace and gave of a very petite shape. She looked at Tormund awaiting his answer.

"The most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth". He sighed lovingly, his thoughts focused on Brianne of Tarth once again. Jon shook his head and looked around again.

"You're quiet back there Zohna". Jon said to a gruff looking man, who was at the back of the group. Zohna was a rough looking man in late 30's. He looked up at Jon and looked at him for a few seconds before answering.

"Just thinking about my woman Snow. Been a few days since I last seen her and a man has needs", Zohna let out a booming laugh and Jon wished he had never bothered to ask.

Eventually they reached Hardhome. This was where the wildlings had decided to set up for the time being. The plan was to start rebuilding the damage that had been done when the white walkers had attacked. They had made good progress but there had been alot of damage. Jon dismounted his horse and the rest of the group followed suit. He bade his farewells to them and headed back to his hut.

Once there he opened the door and slowly closed the door behind him. Darkness engulfed him. He blindly made his way to a table in the corner and managed to light the candle that stood upon it. As the candles light slowly filled the hut he made his way over to the makeshift cot that he used as a bed and sat down upon it slowly.

He sighed and closed his eyes. As he did images filled his head. Daenarys happily in his arms as he plunged the dagger into her heart. The sound of her last breath as she died in his arms. He shuddered and opened his eyes. Tears had already began to fall down his face as he reached down and picked up the course pillow lying beside him. He pressed it to his face as hard as he could and let out a scream. The same memory of Daenerys played in his head over and over. The last thing Jon heard as he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, was Daenerys voice.

"Why? Jon why?".


	3. Chapter 3

Arya

The wind whipped through Arya Starks hair and she smiled as she took in a deep breath. She stood upon the deck of a ship at the hull looking out at the glistening sea all around her. She had been sailing with her crew for weeks now on a venture to find out "whats west of Westeros". So far they had made great head way and Arya was sure that they would come across some form of land any day soon. She hoped they would anyway. Their ships supplies had started to run a bit low and she hoped they would make land before her crew starved to death.

She heard footsteps approach her from behind and turned to see her first mate, Frankell of House Burley, approach her. At first glance he looked calm and relaxed but the closer he got the more Arya noticed how uneasy he seemed. His brows furrowed the closer he got to her and it was plain to see something weighed heavily on his mind.

"Captain Stark. A word if I may?", Frankell looked at her and waited untill she nodded briskly in his direction before continuing.

"I wish I didn't have to ask this but have you maybe thought of the possibility that there is nothing West of Westeros. I mean no offense Captain but its just we have been on the seas for weeks with no sign of any land in sight. Our supplies are running low. We must make landfall soon", he looked at her as he spoke. Arya was silent for a time she stared out into the distance, a frown etched upon her face.

"I know Frankell. I know. There's not much we can do apart from keep going foward. If we turn around now to return most of the men will die our supplys cannot hold the journey back without stocking up. Its part of the adventure though isnt it? That uncertainty. It makes for a thrilling journey". She smiled again as she looked at Frankell.

Frankell sighed in response he knew there would be no telling her. Arya was a free spirit and chose to follow life as she pleased. He guessed she somehow enjoyed dancing so close to the god death, that iust made Arya who she was.

"Well I hope for our sakes we don't have to wait much longer. I just hope this has not been a misguided folly. Maybe theirs a reason your ancestor was never seen again when he sailed along this sea". He sounded like he had given her a life lesson. Arya looked at Frankell and laughed.

"You are far to serious Frankell. What do we say to the god of death?".

"Not today".

"Yes Frankell not today". She smiled reassuringly at him.

It was much later in the day as Arya lay back in her cot, in her captains quarters. She stared up at wooden ceiling that was lined with limescale. An oil lantern hung on the wall by her bed and her eyes followed the motion of the lantern as it swayed in rhythm with the ship. She supposed Frankell was right. They had to make landfall soon. She sighed and fell asleep with heavy thoughts in her mind.


End file.
